Run Away
by GreenGreyBlue
Summary: Allen and Kanda drive away after a violent altercation. Lenalee simply wants to go home and be normal. Alma doesn't know what he's doing, and Neah wants to get over his past so he can focus on the future. Five separate people who all set out on their own personal journey on the same night, never realising the connections they share.
1. Run Away

**Warnings: Some suggestions at violence, some suggestions of you, some drug use, OCC, unsavoury characters and a dash of angst. And it's just the first chapter.**

**Run Away.**

The quiet and usual peacefulness of the country road was broken by the loud roar of a strained engine. An old and abused Hyundai hatchback roared over a small hill, the tires leaving the road and slamming back down. The car shook and swerved under the abuse but none the less kept on going. The car took another sharp, last minute turn and the driver smiled at the rush of adrenalin he got. Every time the car shuddered and spun almost out of control a close to hysterical smile spread across his face. He felt a thrill thinking that with just a little more effort, the car would flip and tumble over and everything would be over. When the car flew over small hills and bumps he found himself hoping that just over the next ridge would be a sudden stop that sent him flying through the windscreen to his end.

If he was riding alone he probable would have by now. But he couldn't risk driving too uncontrollable with his cargo. Sitting next to him, completely asleep and in no way knowledgable of his reckless driving, was the only thing that mattered anymore. Taking his eyes off the road for a fraction of a second, he turned his head to look at his reason for living. Looking at that pale and delicate face calmed him as it always did and he eased his foot off the pedal. Looking back at the road he saw that he was on a long stretch of straight road, so he turned back to that face. He slowed down even further and allowed himself to let go of the wheel for a second to reach over and stoke that soft face.

He would never have done it is the other was awake. He would never let the other know how much he truly cared.

His cargo was resting on his side with the right side of his face pressed against the car seat. Reaching over he let the very tips of his fingers brush along course white hair and down a smooth white cheek. The owner of said cheek mumbled and stirred in his sleep. As if it had never happened, he returned his hand to the steering wheel and clenched it tightly. Yet his gaze remained on that face, his eyes darting back and forth between the empty road and the smooth face.

"Kanda?" the other slurred, moving his head off of the seat.

Seeing the full few of the face his foot slammed back down on the pedal as his anger over took him once again. As the younger's face came into full view, so did the full extent of his bruising. The entire right side of his face was cut and bruised and his upper lip was split all the way up to his nostril, tiny beads of blood still present on cracked lips. It was the result of repeated blows to his face by someone left handed.

"Where are we?" he asked, screwing up his eyes, his voice thick with pain and sleep.

"Eighty minutes out of town," Kanda replied.

"Good," he said with a sigh, repositioning himself on the seat.

"How is it?"

"Hurts," he mumbled, holding a hand to his face lightly.

Kanda felt that anger grab him once again, burning through his body and making his whole head feel hot. There was a burning pressure in the back of his mind and he knew his face was flushed red. His hands clenched the steering wheel so tight his knuckles popped.

"I should have fucking killed him," he hissed, pressing the pedal completely to the floor.

The car jerked and struggled to keep up the speed, the age of it obviously not capable of the treatment it was receiving.

"I'm glad you didn't thought," the small male replied.

Trying to smile he hissed in pain as the spilt in his lip stretched and brought him fresh pain.

"I fucking should have!" Kanda yelled at the others renewed pain, thumping his hand against the steering wheel.

A turn appeared in the road and Kanda jerked the wheel sharply to the left, the car lurching dangerously as the tires left the road once again.

"Be nice to my car," the younger mumbled, "We don't want to be left without transport."

"Whatever," he scoffed in reply, "Go back to sleep."

"Only if you slow down," he slurred, already close to sleep again.

Even knowing that he was once again lulled into sleep, Kanda released the pedal and let the car slow down. Now that he couldn't realise his anger through excessive speed, he felt it building into an unbearable pressure in his head. He wanted to yell, he wanted to shout and scream and drive the car to death. He wanted to slam his foot down and drive the car into the closest tree. He wanted to know what it felt like to fly through a windscreen and come crashing back down to earth, crushing bones. But he wouldn't, as much as he desired and craved self destruction, he couldn't ruin that person next to him.

He slowed further and let his eyes drift over to the person next to him. That strong yet fragile person next to him that had endured so much more than him but always kept going forward. He hated himself for being so weak when sitting with that person next to him. He hated himself for caring too much. He hated that person, he hated Allen for making him feel that way. He hated that the same part of his mind craved self destruction, craved that young male. He hated that he would never get anything in returned. He hated that he wanted to destroy him. Hated that he wanted to take him. Hated the person that had hurt that body. Hated himself. More than anything he hated himself.

So he let his body take over, and slammed his foot back down, making the car shudder and shoot forward again. He craved a sharp turn, a flying jump, a sudden in pact.

…

"Do the curtain's match the carpets?" a drunken man slurred rubbing his hand down her leg.

She smiled and shrugged it off as she usually did, while inside she raged. It wasn't the inappropriate touch, or the sleazy phrase that bothered her. It was the repetition of the phrase and the obviousness of the answer that bothered her and angered her. She must have heard the phrase and numerous others like it about thirty times a night. Considering where she worked it was more than expected, didn't mean she couldn't be angry about it. First of all, she wasn't one of the dancers, just one of the bar staff, so obviously she was off the menu. Second, she had very obvious and distinct Asian features, so obviously her platinum blonde wig 'curtain', would not match her 'carpets'. Third, did all those scummy, deprived men and woman really think that they were coming up with an original line that she hadn't heard thousands of times before. It annoyed her to no end.

Waiting tables, supplying drinks and putting up with scummy pick up lines were all part of her job though. She simple had to smile, brush it off and every now and then say 'Oh you,". She was use to it and use to controlling her anger and disgust. But being her last night on the job she found it harder and harder to control her urges. She wanted to slap them in the face, verbally assault them, question there intelligence. She couldn't though, she had kept up her act for a full year, and didn't want to ruin her good reputation now. After all if she made it through the night she got a fantastic recommendation letter from her boss that would help her gain employment in the future. Even if her boss was just as scummy and strange as the customers.

She felt an overwhelming wave of shame thinking about her boss. A year ago, when first starting out, she had done something extremely stupid, she had slept with her boss. She cringed at her younger and stupider self. For some reason, she didn't know why, but she succumbed to her boss' dirty suggestions and given him what seemed to be, the ride of his life. She could only assume this because afterwards, he had become completely obsessed with her. It wasn't like the man didn't have his choice of woman, who didn't in his line of work, but for some reason he had fixated on her. And ever since, her last year had been nothing but an uncomfortable working environment and barely suppressed anger. It was not long after sleeping with her boss that she got her first 'oh shit' moment.

She called them 'oh shit' moments because she would be some where or doing something and suddenly stop and think…'oh shit'. Oh shit, what am I doing here? Oh shit, what have I done with my life? Oh shit, who did I just sleep with? She would stop and think 'oh shit' and ask herself a question. And sleeping with Bak Chan had been her first moment. It was like everything had been put into place and she finally realised she was way too old to be doing the stupid shit she was doing. It wasn't like being twenty-two was particularly old, but she felt it was old enough to be over the whole rebellious stage.

Her rebellious stage started just after eighteen, where she broke away from a suffocating older brother and a life pre-planned for her. Four years later she had had enough and decided it was time to return home and live a much more normal life. The only problem being money, so for a year she stuck it out and saved as much money as possible. After six months she had enough money to fly home, but she stuck it out for another six months, saving even more money. She didn't want to fly home immediately. She wanted enough money to travel slowly and see the country a bit before going home. Soul searching she called it, and she rightly deserved it. So after a year of awkwardness and nothingness, she had finally saved enough, handed in her resignation, and was minutes away from finishing her last shift. Just minutes, a large amount of seconds, no hours, it was minimum, she could do it. Yet her last nerve almost snapped at the repetition of that hated phrase.

"Do the curtains match the carpets?" another man slurred as she cleared his table of empty glasses.

"That's for me to know and for you to dream about," she said with a wink, walking away.

The man laughed and trailed her body as she walked away and she had to suppress a shudder of disgust. Walking back behind the bar, she wasted time loading glasses into the dishwasher and cleaning the counter. She counted down the seconds and then, the minute hand clicked over and she was free. She no longer worked there. Purposefully striding over to the 'Employees only' door, she ignored the stares and the desire to tear the wig from her head and throw it into someones lap.

She restrained the urge and pushed through the door, pulling the wig from her head the moment the door shut. Dropping the wig to the floor she let out a sigh of relief while running her fingers through her short, spiky hair. After her moment of relief she walked into the staff room and wasted no time in grabbing her belongings. She changed from her tight fitting outfit into some lose fitting shorts, that were still a little too short, and into a loose black singlet that possible revealed a little too much cleavage. It was a comfortable outfit though and still a hundred times better than the outfit she previously wore.

With a deep breath she slung her bag over her shoulder and made to leave.

"Lenalee! Don't go!" a voice carried over the room.

Ignoring the voice she made her way towards to exit.

"Please don't leave! I want you to stay!"

"I've already told you, Bak. I've got things to do, I can't stay here forever," she said, putting it as nice as possible.

"Please don't go," Bak pleaded, appearing beside her, "I'll pay you more, I'll give you better shifts, I'll pay your rent for you! Please don't go!"

It was just getting beyond pathetic, although for a moment there she wavered at the thought of extra pay. She knew that wouldn't happen at every job.

"I don't have rent to pay any more, I've handed in my notice. Besides-"

"You can stay with me!" Bak yelled desperately, falling to his knees.

"Bak," she said, trying to be as gentle as possible, "I don't want to be here. I've got things to do."

Before he could say anything more, she opened the back door and ran out into the night. She was free, so free! But before moving on there was one more thing to do, one last person she needed to see and talk to, and it was going to be hard.

…

Pulling into a petrol station, Kanda grudgingly leaned over and gentle nudged the person next to him awake. He didn't want to wake him, he obviously needed the sleep, but Kanda needed to know if he was alright. Also he knew Allen needed to get himself cleaned up, they couldn't continue travelling with Allen covered in blood the way he was.

"Whattisit?" Allen slurred, meshing three words together.

"Do you need anything?" Kanda asked gruffly, trying to hide his concern.

"Water," he mumbled, "Panadol, something with sugar, and a bathroom break."

"Okay, wait until I get back."

"Sure," Allen mumbled, closing his eyes and catching a few more minutes sleep.

Kanda exited the car, making sure to shut the door gently so as not to add to the others pain. He grumbled to himself while walking across the stained concrete towards a small light filled building. He wondered briefly what time it was, judging by the how long they had been driving and when they left, he guessed it to be about ten thirty. Not that the time mattered. They only reason he wondered was because he preferred travelling at night, and wanted as much of it as possible.

Walking into the small service station he squinted his eyes at the offensive light.

"Good evening," a mono tone voice greeted him.

Kanda grunted in response and went about trying to find Panadol, chocolate and water for Allen. Looking at the rows of stocked drinks he found himself wishing that they lived in a state where alcohol was freely available in service stations like it was in other states. He found himself reminiscing on a road trip Allen and himself had taken months back to another state, and how excited both of them had been to see beer there from sale next to soft drink. Christ he wanted a drink. He knew there was a half empty bottle of scotch shoved into the hastily packed bags in the boot of the car. He swallowed heavily, thinking about the burning scotch running down his already parched throat. He wanted it so badly, but he fought off the thought, knowing if he had a drink there was a chance he might just crash the car.

Instead he grabbed himself an energy drink and made his way over to the counter. The man behind the counter was overly happy and so obviously trying not to look at Kanda's split and bloody knuckles. He should have grabbed some band aids while he was at it. He didn't want to speak to the cashier but he had to ask for the key to the bathroom for Allen.

He was handed a key that was attached to a long length of plastic piping, as if that was going to deter someone from stealing it. HIs purchases were handed to him in a flimsy plastic bag and he all but snatched it from the cashiers hands.

"Have a nice night," the man called after him as he went to leave.

"Whatever," Kanda mumbled to himself, knowing there was no way for him to have a nice night.

Walking back to the car he noticed that Allen's door was open and he was no where to be seen. Dropping the bag and the key, he ran over to the car, his eyes darting every which way in an attempt to locate Allen. In the end it was the sounds of retching that led him to Allen. He was leaning against the drivers side door, which was why Kanda didn't see him at first. He was gripping the side view mirror with his left hand, holding himself up, while his right hand was held length wise around his stomach. He was completely stretch over, his body convulsing slightly and forcing out his stomachs content.

"What's wrong?" Kanda asked reaching him.

He wanted to reach out and rest a hand on Allen's shoulder as a form of comfort, but knew that he couldn't.

"I… just… wanted," Allen started, swallowing thickly between words, " fresh… air."

He breathed deeply and continued to swallow for a few seconds and then started to retch again. His body tensed and shook with the effort as thin yellow strings of bile forced itself out of his body. There was a mess of regurgitated food at his feet but his stomach continued to try and force more out.

"Hurt's," Allen forced out as beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

"I'll go get the key to the bathroom," Kanda grumbled, turning away from the scene that affected him more than he wanted to admit,

"And the panadol too," he added on the end, knowing Allen needed more than simple panadol to help him.

He hastily retrieved they items he had dropped earlier and returned back to Allen. Succuming to his desire to touch the other, Kanda wrapped his arm behind Allen's back and helped him to stand up straight and walk. A small grunt of pain left Allen's lips from stretching his bruised skin. He hadn't seen the full extent of the damage but Kanda knew that almost the whole of the younger body was bruised in some way or another. When they got to the rest room he would give the younger a proper look over.

Reaching the small and dirty restroom, Kanda slammed the door open and pushed the both of them in, locking the door behind him. Allen immediately limped over to the sink and gripped it tightly, slowly looking up into the cracked and spotted mirror.

"Well shit," Allen said, taking the first good look at his face, "It really does look as bad as it feels."

He turned his head to Kanda with a small smile and a chuckle.

"Get yourself clean up," Kanda grunted, handing him the plastic bag that contained the water and panadol. Allen took the bag with shaky hands and Kanda turned and entered the bathroom stall, going to relieve himself.

Seeing the bruising in full flurocent lighting angered him again, he should have done more. He should have kept pounding that arse holes face into the floor until nothing but wet chunks of meat remained. It was the betrayal that made it so much worse, he was suppose to be Allen's friend, only to turn on him and beat him half to death. Anger, hatred, despair, and his thirst for revenge built in his mind. He clenched his teeth together and focused instead on hitting the bowl instead of messing up the whole floor.

Once he was done he tidied himself up and wiped his hands on his pants. In the privacy of the stall and so Allen wouldn't see, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly sent a message that he hoped he wouldn't later come to regret.

_'I might need your help'_. Was all the message said.

He pressed send and flipped his phone shut, shoving it back into his pocket. Exiting the stall he caught Allen's eye in the mirror while he stared into his reflection. He looked a little better with the dried blood and streaks of dirt cleared away. But his shirt was still dirty and torn, and traces of dark red stained his previously white shirt. Small finger tip shaped bruises encircled his neck with similar marks around his wrists, making Kanda flush with anger once again. Too much anger, too much hatred, he knew soon enough it would all turn inward.

Allen turned to face Kanda and held out a wad of wet paper towels, motioning towards his hands. Kanda took the sodden mess some what grateful and began to pat his split knuckles, clearing away the blood and bringing fresh pain. He focused on his knuckles but was secretly watching every move Allen made. He watched unnoticed as Allen lifted his shirt and inspected his chest and stomach for bruises. Because of the angle Kanda couldn't see, but there were plenty on his back. He lowered his shirt with a sigh and then pulled the water and panadol from the bag. He popped three pills out of the foil and shoved them in his mouth, crunching down on the tables. Kanda grimaced knowing the powder would taste dreadful, but would bring on the effects faster. It was the way Allen always took his painkillers.

Allen, more than use to the taste, twisted the top off the bottle and took a few sips, swirling the water around in his mouth before swallowing.

"Why'd he do it?" Kanda asked suddenly. The words slipping from his mouth before his brain had time to catch up.

Allen stopped in his ministrations and looked at Kanda through the reflection.

"I don't think you'll like the answer very much," he said softly, looking down at the sink.

"Tell me," he growled, stepping closer and staring him down once again through the mirror.

Allen sighed and popped another pill out from the sealed foil. He rolled it around in his palm for a bit wasting some time. He brought the pill up and threw it in his mouth, crunching down on it.

"Because I wouldn't have sex with him anymore," he mumbled, a hint of shame and regret evident.

Kanda was right, the anger bloomed and turned inwards, coming out in the form of him repeatedly smashing his fists into the mirror. Shredding skin and cracking bones.

…

"Hey, Alma! Come here you have to see this!"

"Whaaaat?" he said, deliberately drawing out the word to show his discontent at being disturbed.

"Come here! You really have to see this! It is so fucking cool!"

Alma sighed and leaned back from his computer, pushing his glasses to the top of his head and rubbing his eyes. He really need to focus on his project, he only had two more days to work on it and the whole thing was turning out to be a lot more trouble some than he first thought. Some of the firewalls were unlike anything he had ever seen before, and the security access was harder to break through than the bloody National Bank. He didn't know how he was going to finish it within the time limit and get paid. The last thing he need was his high as a kite house mate bothering him about the latest thing his drug addled mind had come up with.

"Alma!" he shouted again, pounding on his bedroom door.

"I'm busy!" he yelled, through the door, "Extremely!"

"This, will change, your life," he emphasised.

"Johnny, I swear to god if you don't fuck off, I _will_, murder you!"

"You can kill me all you want after you see this!"

Alma stood up quickly, his wheeled computer chair rolling back and hitting the wall behind him.

"If you did anything less that find the stole art piece '_The Scream, by Edvard Munch'_ then your death will be excurciating!"

He used to be an Art major, he never really got over it and still mentioned it from time to time.

"Fine, fine, just come see this!"

Grudgingly Alma opened the door to his room with a bang. Looking down his took in his room mates magnified and bloodshot eyes.

"Johnny, can I at least hit you in advance?"

"Nooooo, no, no, no, no! Just watch this first!"

Alma sighed and rubbed at his eyes again, a clear gesture that this whole thing caused him head pain, even if he didn't have an actual headache. He pulled his glasses off the top of his head and put there back were they should be. Glancing over at his computer he realised that he hadn't had a break for close to six hours. When he realised just how long he had been working, he always realised how hungry he was, and how much his shoulders and neck ached from slumping in front of a screen for so long.

"Sure, whatever," he said holding his hands up in defeat, "Let's see this life changing… 'thing', you have."

"Yes!" Johnny exclaimed, running down the hallway the best he could.

"If this seriously isn't the best thing I've ever seen your dead," Alma said, following him out to the living room where Johnny had set himself up.

Johnny had two obsessions, the internet and the television. He had managed to combine the two into one by setting his very much illegal desktop up on a coffee table right in front of his massive flat screen television. Behind the table, with a perfect few of the television, was a large and expensive leather couch. Something so soft and comfortable that one could sink into it and feel completely content for hours at a time, no matter how long one spent in front of a screen, or two in Johnny's case.

"So what is this 'life changing thing' that you have," he said with a sigh, plopping down onto the oh so comfortable couch.

"So get this," Johnny croaked, the obviousness of his addiction coming out as he started to cough, "There was an ad break in this show I was watching and suddenly I had this urge to listen to this song right."

"Right," Alma sighed, feeling a real headache coming on.

"Yeah okay, so, this song, I have to wait for the right moment," he mumbled muting the television, and grabbing a hold of his mouse.

He flicked through his music play this and clicked a song. Alma noted it was the song '_Burn, by The Cure_', a song he knew was used and made popular in the movie, '_The Crow_'.

"Ready…now!" Johnny practically yelled, clicking down and starting the song, "Now watch the screen carefully."

"'I'm watching," Alma said already bored. On the screen was some ad on cars.

"If you watch closely you'll see that every time something important happens in the ad or every time the scene changes, it always falls right on the beat."

"This is what you dragged me out her for? Seriously?"

"Can't you see, this song is classic 4/4 timing, and it works with so many other songs as well, as long as their in 4/4. 4/4 is the most commonly used time signature, and I've discovered that the entire world is built on 4/4."

Alma let him finish and let silence ring out. His head was buzzing with the stupidity of the whole thing.

"And how does this mean that the world is built on 4/4?"

"Because television rules the world right?"

"What about the internet?"

"It's a bi-product of television."

"What about Facebook?" Alma asked, praising himself for not having an account, it was way to easy to trace someone through it. Which in turn sometimes made his own job a whole lot easier. He once found someone an employer was looking for cause the stupid arse kept regular status updates.

"It's a bi-product of the internet. It all comes down to 4/4 and television, everyone is built on the beat. The world revolves on this certain beat."

"Why 4/4? Why not 6/7?" Alma asked, knowing very little about music signatures.

"You're just being stupid now, Alma," Johnny scoffed feeling superior, "The majority of humans aren't smart enough to operate on something as complex as something like 6/7. Did you know the majority of the people you meet through your life with have a below average I.Q."

"If there are so many people below average, how did average get to be so high?" Alma answered quickly.

Johnny opened his mouth to reply but ended up gaping like a fish, obviously unable to reply. Alma basked in his glory and was about to get up and go back to his room when there was a knock at the door.

"What now?" he asked, holding his hands up to the heavens as if he would receive a response.

He got up from the overly comfy couch and made his way down the hallway to the front door. Just as he reached the door his phone went off in his pocket, signifying he had received a message.

"It never rains but it pours," he grumbled to himself, sliding his slim line phone out of his pocket.

He answered the door and thumbed open the message at the same time, thinking it was just a message from his employer telling him the dead line was near. What he got was a message from the person he least expected.

_'I might need your help.'_ Was all that it said.

"What the fuck?" he said to himself.

"Alma?"

Alma finally looked up to see who was at the door.

"Lenalee," he said, a large and genuine smile spreading across his face, "What are you doing here at this time?"

"Hi, Alma," she said with a soft smile, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on the side of his cheek. She usually greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, but he could tell this one was different.

"What's up?" he asked quickly.

"I just wanted to say, that I don't think I would have made it through the last year without you."

"What do you mean?"

"I just wanted to say thank you. You were a true friend when I needed you."

"Why does this sound like a good bye?"

"Because it is," she chocked suppressing tears.

"What? Why so sudden? Where are you going?" he asked in quick succession.

"I'm going home, back south. It's not sudden, I've been planning this for a full year. I just didn't tell you because, well, it was too hard, and I didn't think we would ever build the relationship that we have. But I want to stay in touch, so here is my home address," she said, handing him a slip of paper, "Write to me, I know you're not big on social media and all that. I'll call when I get there," she said sadly, turning away to head back down the stairs.

"Wait!" Alma yelled going after her and grabbing a hold of her arm, feeling breathless, "Why didn't you tell me early? Why now?"

"Because if I didn't leave it to the last minute… who knows what might have happened? It would be to hard," she mumbled, she paused in her movements and turned to face him. She felt bad dumping it on him like she did, so to make up for it she did something she knew the both of them wanted. She leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the lips, pulling herself out of his grip as she did. He stood dumbfounded at the top of the stairs watching her leave. She reached the bottom of the stairs before turning and speaking again.

"I really do treasure you, Alma. But I've got things to do and a life to sort out, and I really need to do this for myself. Stay in touch… please."

She walked into that darkness and then she was gone, in her car and completely and utterly gone. He was in shock, not knowing what to do, or say or how to react. What he ended up doing was closing the door softly behind him and walking back to the living room, were Johnny was still sitting in front of the television and trying to match up various other 4/4 songs to the images on the screen.

"Who was at the door?" Johnny asked, not looking up.

"Lenalee," Alma breathed.

"So why isn't she in here smoking a bong with us?" Johnny asked, still not looking up, but passing him a bong at the same time.

"She went home," Alma replied numbly, grabbing the bong and taking a hit.

"Why'd she go home?"

Alma sucked in as much as he could stand and held it in as long as he could before blowing the smoke out.

"She didn't go back to that shit hole apartment she rented," Alma replied, his voice hoarse from the smoke, "She went back to her real home, back down south."

"…Shit," Johnny said, finally looking up from the screen, "But… didn't you love her?"

"Yes…" Alma whispered.

"Then why the fuck did you let her go?!" Johnny shouted, showing a rare lucid moment.

"It's what she wanted," he mumbled, his fingertips feeling numb from the drugs.

"Fuck that shit!" Johnny proclaimed, "You need to go after her! Tell her that you love her! Tell her that you want her babies!"

"Um that's, anatomically incorrect," Alma stated flatly.

"Shut the fuck up!" Johnny yelled.

"But,… um," Alma started.

"No shut up! This is your chance to do something truly awesome, you need to get away from this shit hole, chase down that smoking' hot woman, and proclaim your love!"

"But what about…" Alma started again.

"No what abouts! You have to do this! She may be your true love. She may call you a creepy stalker and punch you in the face…"

"Hey… what?"

"She may file a restraining order," Johnny continued, "But even with all that, if you don't go after her right this second you're going to regret it the rest of your life!"

Alma mulled things over, and a small part of his mind knew that he was no where near sober enough to make a coherent decision, but for some reason Johnny's words turned out to be stronger.

"You're right!" Alma said, standing up purposefully, "I should go after her! I should tell her everything!"

"Right out of a fucking movie!" Johnny yelled, "Go after that hotter than hot bitch!"

"Don't call her a bitch!" Alma slurred.

"Whatever," Johnny scoffed rolling his eyes and grabbing the bong, "Just go after her already."

"I will!… Right after I grab something to eat."

…

Waking up was always so hard. There was no way for him to wake up to an alarm, because it ended up out the window. So when he went to sleep, when ever it was that he did in fact go to sleep, he swore to himself the moment that he woke up would be when he set out. It was something he had been planning for years and suddenly, just five days ago, he decided it was time.

His waking was as annoying and painful as usually but there was a sense of excitement and adventure that caused adrenaline to pump through his system, waking him up faster. He was such a heavy sleeper. Small and delicate fingers running down his face and soft lips against his woke him fully. He cracked his eyes open and took in the beautiful sight before him.

"Good morning," his girlfriend breathed.

"Morning," he murmured, shuffling forward for another kiss.

"Or should I say good evening? It's almost twelve."

"Hmm," was all he could say, his mind still heavy with sleep.

"Do you still plan on going?" she asked with obvious sadness.

"It's just something I've got to do," he said, his voice coming out in a rumble.

"Okay then… if you must," she said, her voice laced with sadness and longing.

"I'll be back before you know it," he yawned, sitting up on the bed.

"You better be," she pouted, sitting up as well.

Neah looked down at his girlfriend and felt his heart swell like it always did when he looked at her. She was perfect in every way and he hated that he had to leave her, but he felt he couldn't let there relationship progress if he didn't get his past out of the way. He loved her unconditionally from the start, and her him. Unfortunately his unconditional love had very big conditions to the rest of the country. He knew that the rest of the world had a problem with him being in love with a fifteen year old, but they just didn't understand them. It was love at first sight for the both of them, and Road was more mature that any woman he had met his own age. Road was her own woman, and to him she was all he would ever need in life, as long as he got the past out of the way.

Even before he met Road he had something he needed to do, something long ago lost in the past. If he continued in his relationship he knew there would be a constant nagging in the back of his mind, inhibiting his ability to move forward. If he truly wanted to be with Road, he would have to remove all distractions. The biggest distraction being his lost brother. He needed to find him and make sure he was alive and well. That was all he wanted, and perhaps a post card once or twice a year to let him know his brother was still alive and well. If he got that, then he felt he could happily move forward with Road, and live their lives together.

All he had was a first name, a town, and an old grainy photograph, creased and dulled over the years. It wasn't much but Neah felt confidant. He would find his brother, and he would live his life with Road.

"I wish you didn't have to go," she said, pouting again.

"I've already told you," he said, pushing himself up from the warm and welcoming bed, "This is for us, for our future. If I didn't do this now it would constantly be at the back of my mind, and might put a strain on our relationship. If there is one thing I don't want to do, it's ruin what we have here."

He leaned down to the girl on the bed and kissed her again, pulling away before it could deepen and he would be drawn back to the bed. Instead he distracted himself by getting dressed and checking his bags again, making sure he had everything he needed with him.

"Neah, before you go… Did you want to… go all the way?" Road spoke up.

He could hear the small amount of nervousness in her voice and the strain. It wasn't the first time he had heard the request in the last few days. Road was pulling out all the stops in an attempt to make him stay. The first time he heard her ask he truly had to reign himself in… and the instant boner he had received.

"Not until you're sixteen," he repeated, ignoring her and checking his bags again.

"Why not?" she humphed, falling back onto the bed.

"Because as much as I love you," he said, bending down to give her a quick peck, "I do not want to spend the next few years away from you for statutory rape. I have to do this."

"I know," she grumbled in resignation.

"Good, now… I have to go. Do you love me?"

"Of course I love you," she sighed, "If you stay I'll show you just how much I love you."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Just, make it quick… and call me every day, and think about me, and don't think about anyone else. And don't touch anyone else, or think lurid thoughts about anyone else or…"

"Okay, okay," Neah cut in. It was such moments that really made him notice her age. But everything else that she was made up for it. He was so happy to know her.

"I've got to go," he whispered.

He kissed her once more, letting it linger before pulling away and grabbing his bags. He didn't look back, even as he got in his car and drove away. Instead he focused on the photograph that he had attached to his dashboard. In the photo were two small figures, one that he knew to be himself, the other his brother. The images were blurred and he couldn't make out his brothers face. Even the images in his mind were blurred, but he knew the moment he saw him, he'd know it was his brother.

Humming the old lullaby he always connected with his brother he drove off into the night.

…

**Hello again, this was another something I started months ago, August I believe, and am now only just finishing. I'm slowly clawing my way back, but I don't know when I'll write another chapter.**

**Reviews and encouragement are highly desired. You know, just to know if I should keep going.**

**Flames also welcome because then I know I'm doing something wrong.**

**Hopefully this helps me start writing properly again.**

**Cheers.**

**It's so hot, I'm about to melt into a puddle.**


	2. Keep the car running

**Keep the car running.**

After Kanda reduced the mirror to nothing but powdered glass that created a sludge with his blood, he grabbed Allen's arm roughly and dragged him from the rest room. He was spitting and cursing incoherent words while dragging Allen. He paused for a moment, turning towards the brightly lit shop and throwing the key to the bathroom at the door. He then continued his stomping path back to the car, his grip on Allen's arm becoming tighter and tighter. The force used, and being dragged faster than his legs were willing to move made Allen's head spin all over again. He had been feeling some what better but the rough treatment was making him feel sick again.

Reaching the car Kanda pulled the passenger door open and shoved Allen towards it finally letter go of his arm. He stumbled two steps before his legs started to shake, he made it another two before his legs decided to give up and stop working. He crashed to his knees, tearing his jeans and scraping skin. His stomach revolted again and he quickly threw up all the water he had drank and the pills he had chomped down. He leaned forward and rested one hand on the ground while the other pressed to his stomach, trying to calm his revolting stomach.

"Fuck," Kanda hissed and walked away.

Allen wiped his arm across his mouth, trying to rid himself of the stringy disgusting mess. He screwed his nose up at the smell and willed his nausea away so he wouldn't have to create the same mess again. There wasn't much left in his stomach but stomach acid was what created the smell and he didn't want more of it coming up. His throat burned terribly and his whole body ached from the pounding it had received. Unable to stay up he let himself roll to the side, away from the sick, and stare up at the starry sky.

He hurt all over and it was annoying, because he just wanted it to go away. He wanted to be able to move and think normally and not have to throw up every time he moved too much because of the pain. It was just plain old frustrating, and he had enough to be frustrated at. Telling Kanda what he had been up to just added to it. He regretted telling Kanda what he had, not just because it caused Kanda to hurt himself, but because things between them would be awkward from now on. It's not every day you find out that two of your friends were in a sexual relationship. Allen knew that what annoyed Kanda about that whole thing was being left out of the loop. Which ultimately, in Kanda's mind, made him stupid, and Kanda hated being perceived as stupid. Yet Allen didn't think he would take it quite as bad as he did.

Kanda appeared to be outright furious. Allen never realised just how much Kanda disliked being out of the loop.

"Here," Kanda said thrusting a litre bottle of water into his face.

"Thanks," Allen said roughly taking the bottle, his voice still raw from the recent sick.

"Get in the car," Kanda demanded.

Allen's eyes followed Kanda as he stomped around to the drivers side of the car. He opened the door and flung it back, unnatural creaks sounding out as he did.

"Be nice to my car," Allen said, feeling as if he was repeating himself.

"Shut up and get in," Kanda snapped, sitting in the car and slamming the door shut behind him.

Still feeling queasy, Allen complied and got into the passenger seat, closing the door softly behind him. The moment he closed the door the car roared into life and kicked forward. They sped away from the small petrol station leaving a small cloud of dust behind them. The car screeched and moaned under Kanda's treatment.

"Slow down," Allen moaned.

He pulled the panadol from his pocket and popped another three pills from the foil packet, throwing them into his mouth. Crunching down on the bitter and foul tasting pills he felt a level of relief. He tried his hardest to lie back and let his aching body rest while he crunched and swirled the drugs around in his mouth, but rest eluded him.

"How many times?" Kanda asked in a low and level voice.

"Huh?" Allen asked, not a clue on what he was asking.

"How many times did you fuck him?" he grunted.

Allen didn't particularly like the phrasing of the sentence. He knew Kanda wasn't especially happy about what he had been doing, but he didn't think he deserved such a blunt question. As he went to answer he found he didn't know the answer himself. Why would he?

"I don't know," Allen answered finally.

"How can you not know?" Kanda growled. He turned the car sharply and Allen felt he stomach flip at the sudden movement.

"I don't know," he replied, trying to concentrate on steadying his stomach.

"It's now hard! Just how many times!" Kanda growled, jerking the stirring wheel again. "Was it just once? Two, three, four times? Tell me!"

Allen pressed is head against the cool glass of the window and tried to focus on the question. There was no way to answer the question truthfully because he really didn't know himself. Kanda had just assumed it was a one off thing, not something that had gone on for years.

"At least… twenty," Allen finally replied, picking a random number.

"At least twenty," Kanda said, his voice sounding eerily smooth.

"Yeah," Allen replied, turning to look out the window. He really didn't want to talk about it.

"At least twenty fucking times," Kanda growled, slamming his foot down on the accelerator.

The car jumped ahead, shuddered a few times and then strove forward.

Allen couldn't understand why Kanda was so upset about the whole thing, it had nothing to do with him. Sure they were friends, not that Kanda would ever call them that, but no one shared everything with their friends.

"Twenty times… at least?" Kanda growled,"So there was more than twenty times?"

"Yeah…" Allen breathed, "Many more times."

Kanda slammed his foot on the break, making the car swerve and skid out of control. They jumped a hill and skidded off the road, sending the car into the unknown.

…

Driving, was boring Lenalee decided. She was completely over the whole romanticised theme of travel around forty minutes into her journey. She knew there was books written about traveling, movies made about it. She herself though, could not see what was so great about sitting behind the wheel for hours at a time. The furtherest she had had to drive before was to the local shop, or work when public transport didn't work out. The extended amount of time did nothing for her sense of adventure.

She had spent a fair enough amount of time traveling by plane, bus and train, but this was her first time driving herself. In all honesty all her other travelling memories were a haze as she had drugged herself up, opting to 'miss the boring parts'. She had travelled many states, but had never been coherent for most of it.

Now whilst travelling alone in her very own car, she began to realise just why she was so drugged up half the time. Just because it was so god damn boring, and drugs made it better. Even though she had been mostly clean for months now, she found herself craving the excitement a drug high would cause. But then she didn't want to crash her car and explain to the police officer that she was swerving to avoid the purple rabbit being chased by a mutant snail… again. Noooo, one time crashing because of hallucinations was enough for her. Although at the time she was proud of herself for not mentioning to the police office, that the reason she didn't regain control of the car was because the steering wheel was questioning their relationship, always asking her why she kept touching it.

She didn't need to crash her car and end up killing herself or writing off the car. So she had to calm down and not give into her cravings. Not that it didn't make her any less bored, and the radio didn't help. She had only been driving for around two hours but there was more than one song she had heard more than once. It wouldn't be that bad if the songs were actually good. She cringed to think about how much she use to like those over played 'popular' songs. It wasn't just her life choices that had changed over the past year, but also her taste in music. She hated to think how her previous self had gotten so excited and danced to over synthesised electronic music. She didn't want to hear anything that reminded her of those times.

She leant down to play with the dial, unaware that her knuckle hit the FM/AM button, changing the frequency. Fiddling with the dial, she heard a blip of music and tried to lock in on it. Finding the right frequency, the car filled with sweet, simple music.

_"Sweet Caroline,_

_Good times never seemed so good,"_

"What the?" Lenalee asked, thinking to herself that she had somehow stumbled across the old folks station. She was about to go and changed the station again, but decided against it because honestly, it was something different that she hadn't heard for awhile. No more than one minute later she found herself singing along, surprised that she knew all the lyrics.

She was tone deaf and a terrible singing, just ask any one who had ever met her. Yet singing along to Neil Diamond put her in such a good mood. When the song ended she let out a groan because she wasn't ready for the song to end. And then the song '_Run Away_' by Dal Shannon came on and she was singing along once again, delighted at the way she could sing along to the more high pitched parts with out someone cringing and asking her to stop. She belted the song out to her hearts content and began to think that maybe driving wasn't that bad after all.

…

Allen wasn't mentally prepared for there little sudden off road experience, and his body definitely wasn't. They were only driving over rough ground but his weakened body was thrown about, his head snapping back and forth, connecting with the window beside him more than once making his vision blur. The headlights in front of him illuminated nothing but grass and he was thankful that they seemed to have driven into a field and not into the dense scrub land that was so thick just a few kilometres back. Kanda was swearing away, gripping the steering wheel and locking his muscles in an attempt to gain control of the car. Allen's body just wasn't ready for the movement and the flashing blurred vision was making him feel sick again. He did not want to throw up for the third time that night, so he closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind on anything else.

He continued to be thrown to and fro, his head striking the glass again and again. When the car finally came to a stop he could barely notice as his whole head seemed to swim even with his vision cut off.

"Shit!" he heard Kanda yell, closely followed by the sound of the door creaking open and slamming shut again.

Allen blocked him out and instead focused on trying to keep his breathing steady. His heart beat was erratic and now that they had finally stopped he realised just how scared he was. He kept his eyes screwed shut and tried to block out all of Kanda's noise as he went about the car searching for any damage.

"Oi stupid," Kanda spat, yanking the door open.

Allen continued to block him out, his breath persistent in coming out chopping. He felt a hand on his forehead which felt burning hot. He turned away from it with a groan and started to shudder. He wanted to do nothing more than sit completely still, but Kanda had other plans. He was grabbed under the arms and pulled out of the car, despite his incoherent protests. Once out of the car he was laid back gentle onto soft cool grass, which surprisingly made him feel a little better.

"What hurts?" he heard Kanda ask.

"Everything you arse," Allen groaned.

"Anything because of what just happened?"

"My head," he moaned, rolling said hurt body part to the side. The soft grass tickling his cheek and nose in a somewhat pleasant way.

"Open you're eyes," Kanda demanded.

Begrudgingly Allen complied, cracking his eyes open to see the stars above him. He stared at the stars finding them peaceful, that was until Kanda grabbed his chin and flashed a light in his eyes.

"Shit," Allen moaned again, shutting his eyes and trying to turn his head away.

"Slight concussion," Kanda grunted getting up, " Don't fall asleep, I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Allen asked, only to be met with the sound of the car door closing, and the car itself driving off.

'_Okay, not good,"_ Allen thought as the car disappeared.

"I really hope he doesn't leave me here," Allen said, out loud this time.

He turned his head to the side with a sigh that quickly turned into a groan as a shock of pain ran through his head.

"Stupid, Kanda," he groaned, "As if I wasn't in enough pain."

"Well I thought you could handle a little more."

Allen turned his head again squinting his eyes shut with another jolt of pain. Kanda stood above him, standing almost casually with his hands in his pockets, his thin hoodie bunched up behind him.

"You're a jerk?" Allen slurred, wanting to sleep again.

"I hate you too. Can you stand up?"

Allen's arm twitched and he tried to roll to the side so he could push himself up. He managed to move around two inched before rolling back and staring back up at Kanda.

"Nuh. Where's the car?"

"I parked it up by the road," Kanda said, kneeling down on the ground, "I didn't want to jostle you around even more over this ground," he added on the end, much quieter.

"Huh?" Allen asked.

"Nothing," Kanda mumbled, "Can you get up or not?"

"That's a big no. H-hey what're you doing?" Allen stuttered as Kanda slid his arms under his body.

"You can't get up," Kanda said, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt, "And I'm not spending the night in a field."

Allen went to reply but found he couldn't because of the movement.

"Does it hurt?"

"Everything hurts stupid."

"We're almost there, we didn't actually drive that far."

"Felt like it," Allen mumbled, closing his eyes and letting his head fall to his shoulder.

"Oi," Kanda snapped, shaking his burden slightly, "Don't fall asleep."

"Whatever," Allen mumbled.

Seconds later he heard a car door open and he was dropped on the back seat of his car, a little more rough than necessary.

"Can I sleep now?" Allen called after Kanda.

Kanda simple grunted something non-sensical in response and made his way over around the back of the car and opened the boot. He shuffled around in the boot causing the car to rock about, much to Allen's discomfort. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he slammed the boot shut, once again to Allen's discomfort. Kanda returned to the back seat and shoved Allen over, causing a groan of protest. Blinking up, Allen saw that clutched in Kanda's hand was a half empty bottle of scotch.

"Drinking again?" Allen scoffed.

"At least I'm not fucking complete and utter wankers."

"Wanker, singular. Unless you count that one guy… didn't really talk to him, he may have been a wanker for all I know."

He could tell Kanda was seething, but didn't want to look at him. Instead his through his arm over his eyes and blocked him out.

"Just how many men have you fucked?"

"Just the two… actually maybe three… lets just say four to be safe," Allen said, suppressing a smile knowing he was lying, he was having fun toying with Kanda, "More importantly… how many women have I fucked?"

He heard Kanda grunt slightly, knowing that, that grunt meant a lot more than it sounded like. Everything was silent for a moment and then the car creaked as Kanda sat down, and the car door slammed shut.

"How many then?" Kanda asked.

Allen finally pulled his arm away to look up at Kanda. His position on the back seat was uncomfortable as his upper half was on the seat, but his lower half was slumped off the seat and resting on the car floor. Kanda had taken up most of the back seat and he didn't look ready to give up any space. He looked down at Allen with a blank expression, calmly taking the lid off the bottle and taking a swig.

"What exactly have you been getting up to?" Kanda asked when Allen refused to reply.

"You wouldn't believe me," Allen said with a smug smile.

"Wouldn't I?" he asked taking another mouthful.

Reaching over he grabbed Allen around the chest and hauled him up, letting his upper body rest on his lap, while his legs were able to stretch out on the seat.

"Why don't you tell me," Kanda said, tightening his grip.

…

Six hours in, in the very dead of the night, in the middle of nowhere, Neah's car decided it didn't want to live anymore. It started with a few shudders, then a lot, and then something popped under the bonnet and some brownish liquid, which was not oil, splashed all over the windscreen. The popping was actually more of a bang, and if that didn't frighten him enough, the substance on the windscreen certainly did. If that wasn't bad enough, a mammoth sized rabbit happened to come along and decide to try and leap through his windscreen. The car was breaking down, there was a suicidal rabbit, it was no wonder the car skidded off the road and landed in a road side ditch. At least he got the rabbit back, he wouldn't be leaping through any wind shields any time soon, bloody pests.

The slight crash was a jarring experience, but nothing over all. Neah got out of the car with a slightly sore neck and a deep sigh. This was just what he needed, he didn't want his journey to end before it had started. He already missed Road but he was completely and utter determined, and excited, to find his brother. He didn't want to have to tow his car back, get it fixed, worry about funds, start saving all over again. Although by that point, Road may have turned sixteen, in which 'happy times' would ensue. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and from within it withdrew his photo of Road. Just like there relationship in general, the photo of her he carried would not be understood by the outside world. It was a photo from last halloween, and Road was dressed as a mad scientist. She had a long lab coat, thick black gloves, her hair was all teased and standing up-right, and the whole outfit was smeared in blood. It was his favourite picture of her, and he thought it was damn sexy.

Neah shook the dirty thoughts from his mind and went back to his car. He opened the slightly smoking bonnet, which quickly produced a much larger amount of smoke. Coughing and swearing he fanned the smoke away trying to see the damage done. Once the smoke cleared he had to wonder why he bothered to open the bonnet in the first place. It wasn't like he knew anything about cars or how to fix them. Although looking down at the car he quickly figured out the problem. There were these pipe thingys that ran along the top, and the pipe thingys appeared to have burst, which explained what exploded over the windscreen. All over, the whole thing looked bad, and Neah was seriously beginning to think he would have to go back and start all over again. At least Road would be happy.

He let go of the bonnet and let it slam shut, there was nothing more to do. He'd just have to go back and start over with either a new car or the cost of getting the old one repaired. He made his way over to the driver side and pulled his keys from the ignition and then turned to the boot. He opened the boot with a bit of difficulty, as the car had always caused him problems. He retrieved his bag from the boot and walked up the small slope to the road side. He'd have to walk the rest of the way. He could walk back the way he had come and come across a town in about two hours. If he kept walking the way he was going, he could come across a town in about one. He was feeling lazy and didn't really want to walk further than he had to so he walked forward.

Only walking for ten minutes, he heard the sound of an approaching car. He didn't care which way it was going as long as it took him to a town, so he took his chances and stuck his thumb out, hoping to catch a ride. A dark blue van speed passed him and then screeched to a halt, one hundred metres down the road. Then just as fast as it had been going forward, it reversed backwards, swerving slightly. Neah ran to catch up to the car, not believing his stroke of luck considering the time of night.

"You are a life saver," Neah started as he approached the driver side window, "You wouldn't believe my ni-"

Neah stopped short catching sight of the driver. His hair style could be described as a bad decision made in the early nineties. A straight cut fringe, an under cut, with a pony tail running down his back. His outfit very much reminded him of a by gone era just like his hair, with a sleeveless long jacket and jeans that were just a little too tight. His eyes were completely glazed over and there was a string of saliva dripping from his chin, with a white coating of dried saliva coating his bottom lip.

Neah's first thought was, '_How can this guy even drive?_', which was closely followed by '_This guy looks like a serial killer'._

"I… uh… um," Neah said stumbling over his words not knowing what to say. He backed away, hoping and pleading that the crazy driver would just drive off. Passing along the side of the van, the sliding door suddenly opened.

"Travelling partner!" someone yelled, wrapping a set of arms around his neck.

"W-what?" Neah managed to get out.

Before he knew it he was dragged into the back of the van and seated across from two very different people. Of the two men in front of him, one was exceedingly well dressed, complete with neck tie and monocle. The other was the complete opposite, his appearance was shaggy and reminded him a bit of a travelling vagabond. His hair went ever which way, his shirt was crumpled and dirty and his glasses were cracked and filthy. The well dressed man was practically shaking in his seat, the messy one was overly relaxed. He figured while one was on an upper, the other was on a downer. Both of them were leaning against the drivers seat.

"Um," was all he could say.

The car sped off and he was left with the two, both of which just stared at him.

"You know, you look very familiar," the well dressed one said.

"How so?"

"I have no idea, I've never met you before, my name's Sheryl," he said with a smile, holding out his hand.

"Uh, Neah," he mumbled shaking the man's hand.

"This is my brother, Tyki."

"Yo," Tyki said waving his hand slightly.

"And driving the car is our cousin, Fiddler."

"Nice to meet you all, but um… do you think you could let me out?"

"Our hospitality not good enough for you?" Sheyl asked sounding some what scary.

"Oh no, not at all, I'm very grateful for you all picking me up, but honestly, I don't feel safe with him driving."

"What?" Sheryl hissed, "Have you got a problem with my cousins condition?"

Neah couldn't help but think that perhaps he had made a very large mistake as the mood in the car instantly changed. He could feel Fiddlers glare through the rear view mirror, Sheryl leaned even closer to him. Even Tyki seemed to have a slight crease on his brow.

"What condition?" Neah practically squeaked, this was not how he intended for things to turn out. His squeak was forced, because he wanted to appear meek, he didn't want to be himself and make the other guys feel challenged. He knew things wouldn't work out well if things got violent between them.

"He just looks completely tripped out on drugs," Neah continued.

"Oh?" Sheryl said simple, leaning back in his chair.

And just like that the mood lightened and it was like a breath of fresh air. Fiddler returned his eyes to the road, the crease on Tyki's forehead disappeared, and Sheryl returned to just twitchy.

"Well that's understandable because he is completely strung out on drugs. But it's okay, he knows how to drive while under the influence."

"Oh okay," Neah said, and then added under his breath, "I feel so much better."

"So Neah… Where are you headed?"

"Just to the next town to get my car towed back I was heading further out though."

"Where abouts?" Tyki asked, speaking up for the first time.

Neah told them the name of the town he was heading too and the entire van burst on laughing.

"Why would you want to go to that shit hole?" Tyki asked.

"I'm looking for my brother that I haven't seen for over twenty years."

They all stopped laughing and then Sheryl leapt forward and hugged him.

"That's horrible!" Sheryl wailed, "I couldn't imagine being separated from my dear brother."

"You tell me daily that you hate me," Tyki spoke up.

"That's beside the point, this man hasn't seen his brother for over twenty years!"

Sheryl finally pulled away, wiping non existent tears away from his eyes.

"You know what Nellie."

"Neah."

"Whatever. We are going to take you there!"

"What?"

"We've got no where to go, so we'll take you there."

"That's quite alright, just the next town will be alright," Neah said some what nervous.

"Nonsense," Sheryl said with a wave of his hand, "We'll drive you there we have nothing else to do."

"Oh… Okay sure."

He knew it was probable a bad idea, but at the back of his mind was as itching. The thought that an adventure was ahead of him filled him with adrenaline. It would definitely be weird, but with weird came interesting.

"Sure," he said again, a little happier. And then another thought came to him.

"Hey, I'll just have to quickly ring my girlfriend, let her know what's going on."

"Go on, go on," Sheryl said, waving his hands again.

Neah nodded and took his phone from his pocket. He the number two, speed dialling Road, she picked up after two rings.

"Neah!" she squealed, "I've missed you so much!"

He laughed happily before replying.

"It's only been about six hours… but I miss you too."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The both glowed in the moment. Before talking up.

"Anyway, the car broke down, and I'm having it towed back. It looks pretty bad."

"Just the car?" she questioned.

"No, I wont be coming back just yet," he said, knowing he was about to incur her wrath.

"What're you doing, Neah!" she screeched over the phone. Forcing him to pull the phone away from his ear in fear of becoming deaf.

"Calm down my dear, I got a lift," he said as calmly as possible.

"A lift with who?" she continued to screech.

"Just a couple of guys, the want to take me there after hearing my story."

"Just guys… no girls?"

"None at all my love," Neah said, trying to drop as many terms of endearment as possible.

"Are you sure?"

"There is nothing to worry about my sweet."

"You have to call me twice a day, and I'm going to call you twice and if you don't pick up, I'm coming after you."

"Have some faith my dove."

"Stop dropping endearments. I swear to god if I even sense you looking at another woman I'm setting out!"

"There is nothing to worry about," Neah said, dropping the endearments, "You know you're the only one for me."

Road humphed over the phone and said nothing more.

"You know how much this means to me, and I'm willing to take all necessary roads. Please don't get angry at me."

She didn't respond for a while, but he heard her moving around.

"I understand," she said with a sigh, he mature side finally coming through, "Do what you have to do."

"Thank you," he said, trying not let his relief travel over the lines.

"I love you," she said as a good bye.

"I love you too," he said, pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up.

"Awwwwwwww," Sheryl and Tyki said in unison.

Neah looked over at them some what embarrassed about the phone call they were witness too.

"That's so cute," Sheryl gushed.

"Cook," was all Tyki said.

"Have you got a photo?" Sheryl asked, still cooing.

"Yeah I do actually," Neah replied, searching through his pockets for his wallet and his photo of Road, "What about you three, do you guys have any one?"

Neah hadn't expected the loud wail that Sheryl would give out, but he some how managed to catch a sigh from Tyki through it.

"My beautiful wife!" Sheryl wailed.

Tyki mumbled something but Neah didn't catch it.

"My one and only died four years ago," Sheryl continued to wail.

Tyki mumbled some more but Neah caught a few things this time. Things that sound like 'didn't really like her' and 'only because of…'. He said a name but Neah didn't manage to catch it.

"She was always frail, but she brought to the world my beautiful daughter," Sheryl said, brightening at the mention of his daughter.

Neah had finally managed to locate his wallet and was about to pull out his picture of Road.

"My beautiful, Road," Sheryl cried out, "I haven't seen her for years!"

Neah halted in his movements. Road wasn't exactly the most common name around, and the man looked just old enough to have a daughter her age. Road had always been very guarded about her past, but he knew she had ran away at the age of thirteen, and that was when Neah had met her.

"Oh… how old is she?" Neah asked, trying to sound sympathetic.

"She would be fifteen by now," Sheryl sobbed, without shedding an actual tear.

"Do… do you have a photo of her?"

"Of course I do!" Sheryl said happily, quickly whipping a photo from his front pocket.

He kissed the photograph briefly before turning it for Neah to view. The moment he saw it he felt ill, because there before him, was his Road. The photo was from when she was around nine or ten, but it was so obviously her, just with softer features.

"That's my, Road," he said with a happy sigh. He looked at the photo once more and then returned it to his front pocket.

Neah clenched his wallet tightly in his hand and hoped that he had forgotten about Neah showing his own photo.

"Anyway," Sheryl said, becoming immediately happy again, "You were going to show us a photo of your girlfriend?"

"Right," Neah said a little to quickly, "Yeah."

He made a big show of searching through his wallet, deliberately skimming over his photo of Road and rummaging through old receipts and the few notes he had on him. He continued to rummage, faking annoyance at being 'unable' to find his photo of his girlfriend.

"I must have lost it," he said with an over exaggerated sigh.

"That's a shame," Sheryl said, tilting his head to the side, "What's her name.

"Ronnie," Neah said quickly, thinking on his feet, "It's… short for Veronica."

"That's so cute! Tell us about her!"

_'Oh shit,'_ was all Neah could think. It was going to be a long trip.

…

It took about two hours and twenty minutes before Alma finally sobered up from all the drugs he had smoked, and realised exactly what he was doing. He was in a car, in the middle of nowhere, with minimal supplies and no idea where he was going. When he had set off he had been stoned off his guts with the song 'Love is in the air' playing on repeat in his mind. Yet as time went by, and the drugs left his system he finally realised. Sure he loved Lenalee, or at least thought he did. On top off all that there was his work assignment that he needed done very soon, with serious repercussions if it wasn't done. Very serious, like, death serious.

He quickly found himself swearing randomly as he become more and more sober. Sure everything was for love, and as much as he would like to believe in the harrowing love adventure, it wasn't realistic. In real life people couldn't just ride, or in this case drive, off into the sunset, set on capturing a young woman's sensitive heart. No in real life, people had jobs to do, serious jobs, jobs that could result in burnt down in houses and death. And it wasn't like he actually had anything with Lenalee. Except for that one time, when maybe something happened.

Many months earlier, when Alma had just met her, and Lenalee was still heavily into drugs, they had ingested some magic mushrooms. Lenalee had provided them, kind of like an ice breaking deal. Johnny was only to happy to join them. They blended the mushrooms up with some chocolate milk, and divided the liquid into three different glasses in even amounts. They drank the horrid liquid down and sat down on the couch in from of Johnny's double screens. It was about half an hour before it started to kick in. Just as the effects were beginning, Johnny thought it was good to play a clip of _'White Rabbit'_ by "_Jefferson Airplane_' from the '_Smother Brothers Comedy Hour'_ on repeat, on both screens. They tripped out to the vivid colours and the psychedelic music and Alma had just enough time to think _'No wonder so many people in the sixties were tripped out' _before the drug took full effect. He watched the screen with apt attention and he couldn't help but think that the trippy images behind lead singer, Grace Slick, formed people. They were dancing behind her and constantly pointing up. After staring at their strange yet inciting dancing, Alma finally looked up to where they were pointing.

He was surprised to find that his ceiling was no longer a ceiling but an ocean. The waves lapped against the walls and dolphins, whales and fish made themselves known. Sailing on the ocean was a boat with masts and ropes. He watched intently as the ship sails back and fourth across his ceiling, tiny crew members climbing ropes and scrubbing decks. And then the sea darkened and Alma knew there was a storm approaching even if there weren't any clouds visible. The sea become more violent and the crew members of the ship battles against it, all the while 'White Rabbit' continued to play. He watched with hope and despair as the tiny crew members tried to control the ship and as members were swept over board. He felt a tear slid down his face at the lose of their lives and something lean against his shoulder.

He tore his eyes away from the ceiling to see what had rested against him to see Lenalee. She seemed to be in vibrant colour with small colourful wings stretching out from the edges of her eyes. She was staring at the ceiling also, but with awe.

"Can you see it, Alma?" she whispered, "Can you see Ktulu?"

He looked up at the ceiling and saw that the ship from earlier was being attacked by giant tentacles. Tentacles that seemed to grow and stretch down, hoping to grab the two of them. Alma threw himself over Lenalee in a bid to protect her. The slimy feel of tentacles ran along his face and he could feel the tentacles suction cups against his cheek. He huddled against Lenalee even tighter, not wanting her to be attack by the Ktulu. He shivered in fear feeling tentacles and water wash over his body and then it was gone.

He released his hold on Lenalee and looked up. The sea was gone, along with the boat the Ktulu. When he looked back and Lenalee she was more beautiful than ever. She was dressed in white with long hair she never use to posses down to her waist. Behind her were a pair of black wings that sprouted from her back.

"Alma," she whispered.

And that was the last thing he remembered of the night. When he woke he was in his bed, bleary eyed and confused. He looked towards his door and he cold have sworn he saw Lenalee sitting on the edge of his bed. She was pulling a shirt over her chest and then getting up and leaving.

To this day Alma didn't actually know if they had slept together or not. There was no evidence in his bed to suggest so, but he was naked and didn't have clothes on him. The deed could have easily been done else where but there was no way for him to know what had happened in their drug addled minds. Perhaps they had slept together, perhaps they had not. There was a big maybe there, and it was a big enough maybe for Alma to keep going. But first things first, he had to deal with his projects. He pulled over to the side of the road and began to go through the things he had taken with him.

There was a great deal of shit, he for some reason thought it was necessary bring along a number of books with him. Random books that had no connection to each other but all of which he liked. There were a large amount of snacks as well, but nothing substantial. There was also a fifty of weed that he could only guess Johnny had given him. Some clothes and at the bottom of the pile, his laptop.

"Yesss," he hissed to himself.

He could finish his project if he worked hard enough. He had barely twenty four hours if that.

He made a deal with himself. If he could finish the job on time he would go off in search of Lenalee, if he didn't, he would return home and try to explain himself to his employers. As he typed away at his laptop, hoping the battery didn't give out, he prayed and hoped that he would finish the project. Because truly, even after much speculation and self denial, he wanted to go after Lenalee.

**Soooo, this chapter was also mostly finished, just had to clean it up. But in other news, this helped me start writing again and I've started the next chapter to 'A Place Like This' for people who follow my other stuff. It's slow but it's something. It's only a few paragraphs but at least it's something compared to the nothing I have been writing for a long time.**

**Also as people may have noticed, I very much enjoy turning characters into drug addicts and alcoholics… but that's just me… sorry 'bout that.**

**What I'm trying to accomplish here is to make each separate story by each character equally as interesting. I want to know if I'm failing at this. Of course some characters will have a bigger focus in different chapters but I want to know if you, the reader, are interested in each story. If you are not, I want to know why, and not just because you are a hater of a particular character. With each chapter, the story of each character will grow. Although the major story is between Allen and Kanda**

**I'm trying to accomplish, angst, humour, adventure, and hilarity all in one story.**

**Please tell me if I'm accomplishing this or not.**

**Also I want to do the lame thing of trying to incorporate the word "Run" into the title of each chapter yet in reference to a song. I know it's lame but it's a challenge.**

**To the people who reviewed thank you.**

**I've always liked those kind of stories were multiple different people end up interacting. Which is just why I liked Durarara so much, as one reader mentioned (you know who you are!).**

**Would love reviews and flames, ciao.**


	3. Long Distance Runaround

**Long Distance Runaround.**

Two hours of long awkward and personal questions later, Kanda asked his final question through a fog of scotch.

"Why him of all people? Why that shit head?"

Allen tried to figure out the best way around the question, without turning Kanda into a rage. He fingered the edge of his blood stained shirt, thought for a moment about how nice a shower and fresh clothes would be.

"Well?" asked Kanda, nudging Allen.

Allen sighed, and tried to get more comfortable even as he could feel himself tensing. He decided to go with blunt, instead of trying to make it more… pleasant.

"You left, and I was alone. He was the only one left."

Allen expected some kind of rage, maybe some denial, possible even some jab at him, calling him stupid. He squinted his eyes shut, waiting for the out burst. When it never came he risked opening one eye, and turning his head to see Kanda's face. He was expecting a bright red face and barely contained anger. What he saw was Kanda slumped forward, his chin touching his neck. Steady and deep breathing escaping his mouth with small almost silent snores.

Allen didn't know if Kanda heard his response or not.

He decided not to worry about it and try to catch some more Z's. He had slept most of the day away, but he was still so tired.

…

When the rusted and clanky old van pulled up to a petrol station, Neah was the first one to exit. He practically ran out and quickly found his way out the back of the old wooden servo. While the other occupants of the van got out slowly and stretched, Neah pulled out his phone and hit speed dial two.

"Neah!" Road shrieked, not even after one complete ring, "You're late!"

"I didn't know there was a particular time to call?" he asked, sweating slightly.

"I said twice a day! That obviously means once in the morning and once in the afternoon."

"It's still morning isn't it?"

"No! It's twelve thirty!"

"I'm sorry, honestly though, I just can't call you when I'm around those guys."

"Why not? You ashamed to talk to me in front of you're new friends?"

"Not at all!" Neah said quickly, afraid of where the conversation was going, "It's just unnerving talking to you when they just sit there, staring at me. I want to say things to you, but can't when they're there."

He could hear her pause and hum to herself over the phone, taking everything in and thinking it over.

"That's understandable," she said, much calmer. Finally, Neah thought, her mature side was coming out. "I wouldn't want them to hear the things you have to say either."

"Thank you," Neah said with a sigh of relief, "So what're you up too?"

"Nothing much, just waiting for you to come back. I'm so bored, I've cleaned the house three times since you left."

"Three times… really?" Neah laughed.

"I'm booooooored."

"I'm sorry, I'm half way there."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too," Neah cooed down the phone, knowing that this would lead to minutes of promises and love confessions.

After five minutes of love exchanges that would make even the most loved up couples gag, they calmed down, and Neah thought of something.

"Hey, Road?"

"Yes dear?"

"What was your father like?"

"What?!" Road asked. He wasn't quite prepared for that reaction. "Why on earth do you want to know about 'him'?"

"Well I've just been thinking on this trip that I don't know much about your past. You know all about mine."

She sighed over the phone, and the sounds of movement were heard before a slight oomph. Neah guessed that she had laid down.

"He was always a little weird alright," she said in resign, "The games he would play with me weren't in the least normal, but how was I to know? And then after my mother died he got worse…"

"Worse how?"

"He's a creep alright, that's all you need to know."

"But…"

"Don't ask Neah!"

"Okay, alright fine. I'm sorry for wanting to know more about you."

He was trying to guilt trip her, and he could tell from the silence that it was working.

"I'll tell you in time… just not right now. It still feels too raw."

"I understand, I'm sorry."

"That's alright… So where are you now?"

"Honestly I have no idea, but apparently we are making great progress," he said with a laugh.

"Hey Nellie!" he heard Sheryl cry out, "What're you doing back there?"

With a sigh at the name he had been given, Neah pressed his phone to his thigh to block out the noise, just in case Road would hear.

"I'm just talking to Ronnie," he said with a forced smile.

Sheryl swaggered over to him and rested against the wall next to him. He dug in his pockets and pulled out a pipe, a freaking pipe. He was really keeping up appearances.

"You know, Noah."

"Neah.

"I think this woman of your's has too much control over you."

"Huh?"

"I think you need to break free from her."

"No way I'm in love, she's my world."

"I didn't say break up with her, I just meant spend a little time alone."

"But I don't want too."

Sheryl raised an eyebrow, puffing briefly from his pipe. He then crossed on leg over the other and bashing the edge of his pipe against the sole of his shoe, knocking out the tobacco, little sparks of orange flying every which way.

He walked over to Neah, calm as anything. Reaching out somewhat snake like, he grabbed the phone out of Neah's hand and with a laugh ran away. Neah took a moment to panic before chasing after him. He flew around the servo, laughing hysterically to himself as Neah chased him.

Sheryl reached the water tank at the back of the servo and easily pulled himself on top of it. Neah stopped looking up at him, getting angrier and starting to think that maybe resorting to violence wouldn't be so bad. And then Sheryl extended his arm and released the phone… right over the hole in the water tank. His anger dissipated at the sight of his phone falling and dropping into the water below with a slight plink. After that, there was only one thing he could think.

_Oh shit._

…

Typing frantically for hours, and with the use of some unsuspecting person's wifi connection, Alma managed to finish his project. He knew it was a little choppy, and rushed at the end, but he was positive that it would work. It was a difficult project and finally finishing took a load of stress away from him. He finally closed the laptop and let it drop to the floor of the car, not even thinking about how expensive the machine was. He was wrecked, mentally and psychically, and thought that he deserved a little reward for completing such a complicated project.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the fifty of weed he had found the night previously. Searching in another pocket he found some papers. The weed was already chopped, making things easier for him. Not having to concentrate on chopping, he rolled himself a joint from the sticky substance and lit up.

With the drugs settling into his body almost instantly, he slid down to lay more comfortable on the back seat of the car. The position he had held for so long, with is back against the door and his knees pulled up to rest the laptop on, was stressful. He hadn't noticed before, he was so focused on his work. Now that he didn't have to think about it, letting himself stretch out was pure bliss. He let his feet hang out the window and rested his head on his arm curled behind his head, his other hand clutching the joint.

Taking another draw, he shuffled around trying to get more comfortable. Every time he shuffled around the pressure wouldn't relieve and he started digging underneath him trying to find the source of whatever was digging into his right butt cheek. Finding nothing, he shoved his hand into his back pocket, finding something lodged in it. Pulling the wad of… whatever out, he sighed in relief. The offending item being removed he took a few more puffs before looking at what he had wadded in his hand. Once he opened it, he dropped the joint and the wad. A mass of yellow and green notes spilled out on his chest, fifty and hundred dollar notes, so much to amount to thousands of dollars.

"The fuck?" Alma asked himself, trying to think of where the large amount of money had come from.

And then he remembered.

He had received a message from Kanda, right before Lenalee had appeared and thrown his whole life into chaos. The message read:

_"I may need your help."_

"Oh shit, oh shit!" Alma panicked, it all came back to him.

Kanda had asked him to watch the money for him. Said he didn't trust himself with it, or with it in the bank. These days it was too easy to transfer money and Kanda was saving the money for something. And Alma had taken it with him, all seven thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars of it. Alma knew because he counted the money every second night, scared that something would happen to it. Kanda said he was coming back for it, possibly bringing another person with him and at that point he might need some help, somewhere to stay. That was six months ago.

"Oh shit," Alma said again.

…

Two days and no phone call, and all phone calls she had tried to make were met with a pre-recorded message.

'The person you are trying to contact is currently unavailable.'

Sure she could handle maybe one day without contact, there might not have been good reception. Two days, however, was just a no go. She was already concerned that Neah was travelling with strangers but then that. Two days with no phone call, that was just not cricket in her books. She had to do something other than clean the house for the thirteenth time. She had to get Neah back before he crossed over to the dark side. The dark side being away from her and with some other hussy. It wasn't like she hadn't warned Neah that this was going to happen. She was going after him, not matter what.

It didn't take her long to pack a small bag with some clothing, toiletries and some other important things.

With everything set she stepped out side the front door locking the door and shoving the key somewhere on her person. Looking out at the evening sun she could help but to pose purposefully, like some cliche' scene in a movie.

"Look out world," she said with a smirk adding more effect to the dramatic pose.

With that out of the way, she popped an umbrella and began to walk, swinging her bag back and forth as she went. The umbrella would be useless if it were to rain, but it helped keep her out of the sun, and the purple shade with black lace matched her outfit so well. She took carefully consideration picking her outfit and all the ones she packed. After all she had to look good whilst rescuing her boyfriend from the evil clutches of… who ever he was with. She also planned on using the outfit to her advantage in other ways. Having little to no money with her, she couldn't afford to waste it on things like bus and train tickets. Money was to be saved for food. Her travelling expenses were to be paid for by others. Namely anyone who wanted to pick up a hitch hiker. And that's where the outfit came it.

It would be so much easier to get a lift looking good, most likely from some pervert, but she had ways of dealing with them. It wasn't the first time she had hitch hiked and she knew all the rules of the road. She didn't like them much, so she made up her own rules.

Reaching the main road out of town she set her bag down and closed the umbrella. Thrusting her leg out, revealing as much skin as possible, she rested on hand on her hip, the umbrella dangling from her hip, and her other hand help out with her thumb up. It didn't take long for a car to screech to a holt, a nervous looking blonde haired man staring at her through the window.

"Where you headed?" he asked, leaning over to open the door.

"Just up north," she said with a smile, skipping towards the car.

"I can take you about forty k's."

"Anything's better than nothing," she said getting in and closing the door behind her.

She didn't even have time to buckle her seat belt as the car sped off. The man behind the wheel easily spending more time looking at her legs than the road in front of him. Her being obviously underage didn't seem to deter him in the slightest.

The longer they drove the more nervous the blonde haired man seemed to get. Road looked out the window, counting down inside her head how long it would take him to make a pass at her. Getting bored with waiting she propped one of her legs out the open window, her skirt riding up to the very edge of her inner thigh. That was all the man could take.

"You know, you're a very attractive young… woman."

Road noticed that pause, he was about to say girl.

"Thank you," she said, her gaze remaining out the window,

"Are you looking for work at all?" he asked, still nervous.

Here it comes, she thought, smirking in a way that he wouldn't see.

"Maybe," she said, not needing work but wondering where he was going.

"You see, I run a number of clubs. Gentleman clubs."

Road thought that the name given to the clubs was a bit of an oxymoron. The people that frequented such clubs were anything but gentlemen.

"Oh?" Road continued playing along, feigning innocence, "What is that? A bunch of old men? Would I serve them cigars and brandy?"

The man obviously thrown off by the statement started coughing, the car swerving from left to right.

"N-no," he stuttered, "It's a club for men, where woman… well they dance for the men. And I guess on some occasions they do serve brandy."

"Oh… you mean a strip club?" she said, turning away from the window and smiling a devious smile.

"Yes, that's one way of putting it."

"Why didn't you just say that?" She pulled her leg back in through the window and let her legs hang apart a little. "I'm down with that."

"You are?" he squeaked, a little too excited.

"Yeah sure," she said turning his whole body towards him, leaning back again the passenger side door.

"I'm glad you understand," he said resting his hand on her thigh.

This was her favourite part. Slowly, while still keeping her gaze on the man, she picked up her bag from the floor of the car. She pulled it into her lap, digging through the contents without looking away.

"What're you looking for?"

"Protection," she purred.

His smile grew and sweat sprang out on his forehead. Road almost started laughing, the poor bastard thought he was going to get laid.

"Ah," she said, her hand finding what she wanted, "Here it is!"

With a smile she pulled out a gun and aimed it right at his head. His hand left her thigh faster than a bat out of hell. She smiled and leaned back, pressing her foot right against his thigh. The car sped up and a small squeak exited that mans mouth. It never got old, watching the perverted men freak out and basically wet themselves. She had never found herself in the situation where the men found out the gun as a fake. A lot of people had never seen a gun before, unless it was hanging off the hip of a copper. Her gun was a perfect replica, all the right parts moved, it had the same weight as a real gun, the only thing it didn't do was fire.

"Aww," she said, sticking out her bottom lip, "What happened to all that confidence?"

A small gurgle left his mouth and he gripped the wheel tighter, his foot pressing the accelerator down as far as it would go.

"Now, I want you to keep driving, passed the forties k's and keep going… got it?"

He nodded meekly and kept driving, following Road's directions.

Two hours they drove. Road was bored, usually by now they were pleading, trying to talk 'logically' to her, something. The man across from her said nothing, he was boring. So boring, that she was willing to let him go and find another ride. She found a way to get rid of him with the sight of an approaching service station.

"Pull over here," she demanded, "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Yes M'am," he said, serving to enter the station.

With the car stopped, she began to stretch and gather her belongings, taking her time as to make him more nervous. She made sure to wave the gun around as much as possible.

"I'll be right back," she said, stepping out of the car with all her belongings.

As expected the moment she step foot out of the car, the man speed off. He drove out on the road, screeched in an arch and took off back the way he had came. Road smiled at him, waving in an overly exaggerated manner, her fake gun once again hidden in the depths of her bag. She made her way over to the doors of the service station and sat down on a milk create just next to the door. Her stomach gurgled in hunger, she'd eaten that morning and was already hungry. As her money was minimal she decided it was best to eat every second day to save money. She could probably get someone to buy her something to eat if she really wanted.

A sharp beep drew her thoughts and someone exited the shop. She didn't bother to focus on the persons face, only the large amount of snacks in there arms. Her stomach made itself known again as it screeched so loudly that the person exiting the shop stopped and looked at her. Pulling her eyes from the wad of salty and fatty food she looked up into the person's eyes, her expression pleading. The person was a young woman, a piece of beef jerky hanging out of her mouth. She was barefoot and dressed sloppily, cut off ragged jeans and a faded grey singlet that was probably once black. She looked down at Road, nibbling at the piece of beef jerky softly.

"So hungry," Road mumbled, not realising she had spoken out loud.

The young woman pushed the piece of jerky to the side of her mouth with her tongue and began shuffling the bags in her arms around looking for something. Finding it she held out an open packet of jerky towards Road.

"Would you like some?"

"Yes!" Road yelled, snatching the bag from her hand and shoving every piece of dry, salty meat into her mouth. Her cheeks swelled up like some foraging animal as she chewed.

The person began to walk away, the person with an arm full of food. Road jumped up, her body making a decision before her mind could.

"Wait!" she called out.

"What?" the woman asked, turning around, still chewing on the same piece of jerky.

"Where are you heading?" she asked, some what nervous. It wasn't like she couldn't hold the woman up like she did all the others.

"Hmm?"

Reaching her car she dumped her armload of snacks into the back seat, turning back to Road when she was done. She finally pulled the remains of the jerky out of her mouth, the ends of it sticky and sodden.

"North," she said, looking the girl up and down, "I think, I don't know where I'm going really." She paused, her look becoming distant and lost.

"How far North?"

"No idea," she said with a sad laugh, "I took off on a bit of a soul searching trip, but now, I'm wondering why I bothered."

"I'm searching myself," Road said, stepping closer. "I'm looking for a town."

Road told the woman where she wanted to go, the town Neah had mentioned. The woman obviously thought the town was a bit of a 'shit hole' as most people did. The town was known country wide as a 'shit hole'.

"Can you take me there?" Road asked, and for once she wasn't trying to manipulate someone.

Her whole adventure had started out with a bit of a laugh, reliving the old times. It was fun sure, but after living with Neah for so long, that kind of life style just wasn't as fun anymore. She felt lonely with out Neah, and incomplete. Without Neah her life didn't feel right, she just wanted to get going, find him, and go back to the small unit they shared.

"Please?"

The woman finished her jerky, looking around, almost as if looking for advice from someone else. Five minutes passed and Road was beginning to turn away, trying to find some delusional male to drive her where she wanted to go.

"Sure," the woman said, "Why not."

Road spun back and grabbed the woman around the waist, jumping up and down in her glee, jolting the woman.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"No worries," the woman said, pulling her arms from her waist, "What's your name?"

"Road," she smiled, "What's your's?"

"Lenalee."

…

After two days of silence Allen came to figure that yes, Kanda had heard what he had said before falling asleep, and as expected he hadn't taken it too well. The only noise he had heard from Kanda for the past two days were grunts that could be taken a number of different ways depending on the way they were delivered. Their trip to the hospital was interesting as Kanda refused to speak. Allen had to do all the talking and explain that they were there for him, but for Kanda. It was obvious that Kanda had broken something in his hand by the swelling. He just ignored it and tried to drive one handed, which would have been a lot easier if the car wasn't a the end Allen got Kanda to go to a hospital by telling him he was going to leap out the car if he didn't drive up to the next hospital. Since Kanda wasn't speaking it took him a while to figure out if he was taken seriously or not.

The hospital was an adventure. Kanda snarled at everyone, Allen apologised to everyone. They sat in the waiting room for two hours before being seen too. It wasn't like they wouldn't be sitting in the car in silence anyway, but sitting in the hospital seemed worse. In the end Kanda had two fractures in his hand and walked away with a cast up to his elbow that still allowed movement. While they were at it Allen got himself looked over. The Doctor took pity on him and gave him some stronger pain killers after Allen played him a bit. Making up some story about being attacked, and slipping in that Kanda had broken his hand protecting him. Allen just wanted some pain killers, and he got them.

He walked out on a cloud, feeling much better. Kanda was still a grumpy shit.

They drove off, and the silence stretched on for two days. Since there was no talking and Allen was doped up, he was for some reason very conscious of the sounds of the car, or more like the sounds Kanda was making his car make. He accelerated too fast, jerked the steering wheel too harsh. He hit the break too hard, churned the gears, repeatedly dropped the clutch. Slammed doors, twisted his mirrors, and he could not stop fiddling with the fucking radio. It was the constant changing of stations that finally got to him.

"For fucks sake!" Allen yelled, "Just pick a fucking station and stay there!"

"Fuck you," Kanda said, continuing to flip through the stations.

Two days, and the first thing he got was a 'Fuck you', Allen snapped.

"That's it, pull over! Pull the fuck over!"

"No."

"It's my car! It's my fucking car and you're killing it! It's the only thing I fucking own! Get it! I don't own anything but this car and I don't want you killing it! Pull over, I'm driving."

Kanda hit the brake, too hard, and pulled over to the side of the road. Allen stepped out, stomped over and pulled the driver's side door open, gently.

"Get out," he said, trying to remain calm.

"You're not fit to drive."

"Neither are you, have you forgotten your broken hand?"

"No."

A blunt two letter word, it was a small word he heard everyday of his life. But that small word was enough to make him want to throw himself on the ground like a three year old and beat his fists against the ground. Since he was an adult he would not resort to such an act. Instead he jumped up and down raging yelling, "It's my car, it's my car, it's my car!". The small part of his mind that was still sane registered that his reaction wasn't much better than beating his fists against the ground. Yet the larger part of his mind that had snapped into insanity, thought it was a good idea to try and pull Kanda forcible from the car. It was a stupid idea because he could no more remove Kanda from the car than he could lift it. This just made him more frustrated and his head was starting to hurt.

When his eyes started to sting he gave up and sat down on the road. He let his head fall in his hands and let out a small choked sob.

"Don't you get it?" he croaked, "I don't have shit, Kanda, I don't own a damn thing and I want to take care of the car. I have nothing… fucking nothing."

He dropped his hands and stared down at the road. After his outburst he felt a little more sane, and embarrassed about the way he had acted. He sniffed, his nose was running, but he hadn't actually cried, which he was some what proud of.

Kanda stepped out of the car and Allen sighed. He was expecting Kanda to drag him up by his shirt, his clean shirt, and throw him back in the passenger seat. Allen watched on, surprised when Kanda made his way around the car and sat in the passenger seat. He slammed the door and crossed his arms, glaring out the window. Allen allowed himself a small smile and got up. He felt a little weak, and his hands still shook from his outburst, but he got into the car and felt relieved.

"Thank you," he sniffed, wiping his nose.

Kanda grunted, but what did he expect?

Allen took his time adjusting the seat and mirrors. He could help but think that the mirrors felt a littler loose, but he could have imagined it. When everything was the way he liked it he put the car in gear and set off at a nice steady pace, not too fast, changing the gears smoothly.

They rode in silence which Allen was grateful for, for a change. The car was running smoothly, not jerky movements or strange noises, he was much calmer. Until Kanda opened his stupid mouth.

"That the fuck was that shit you said the other night about?"

"What shit?"

"That shit about me leaving? You blaming me for you fucking up your life?"

Allen braked harshly, just like Kanda. He managed to pull the car to the side of the road before crumpling. His hands started to shake, he could feel his eyes widen and he just stared straight ahead. He couldn't believe him, that bastard. If his mouth hadn't gotten so suddenly dry he would have said something. There were multiple phrases running through his head, but none of them sounded right. All of them seemed stupid.

"Oi, stupid," Kanda said, nudging him.

For the second time that day, Allen snapped.

"You shit!" he yelled.

Leaning over, but held back by the seat belt, he tried his hardest to pummel Kanda senseless. Lashing out wildly, his fists caused no real damage. Kanda unbuckled himself from his own seat and had Allen pressed to his seat in a few seconds. He shoved Allen back into his seat, his cast pressed heavily against his chest, his other hand gripping one of Allen's flailing arms by the wrist.

"Calm the fuck down!"

"You shit, you fucking shit head!"

"That the fuck is your problem?"

"You are! You fucking jerk!"

"Fine, I'm the problem. Get out and let me drive you back then."

That made him stop struggling. He didn't want to go back, he feared going back.

"No, don't, I can't go back there."

"Then calm down and get your shit together," Kanda said.

Kanda gave Allen one last shove before letting him go and settling back in his seat. Allen sat stunned trying to process thought properly.

"Now, would you like to think rationally and explain yourself?"

Allen spat out a short laugh, like Kanda could talk about being rational. But it all spilled out.

"I don't think you remember, you obviously don't. When we were younger, you made me a promise. You said one day we would run away together. We were only young, and it didn't mean anything. Nothing said at that age means anything, but I clung to that for years. The thought that we would escape together, it was all I had. I didn't tell anyone or mention anything to you. I was scared that if I did I would ruin it and it wouldn't happen. So I just waited and waiting thinking that in a few years I could get away. And then… you left. You fucking left and escaped on your own, you left me alone and it really… fucking… hurt.

"I've been abandoned enough and that last time was enough. I didn't fucking care about myself or anything any more. I'm sorry for being so pathetic and clinging to some stupid childish dream. I'm sorry for expecting so much of you. When you came back though… I though you might have come to take me with you. But you never mentioned it, not once. The only reason I'm here is because I got the shit kicked out of me. This whole time I've been wondering when you were going to dump me somewhere. It's okay when you do though… at least I'm not there anymore."

Feeling drained after his long speech he folded his arm on the steering wheel and rested his head there.

Kanda had spent the whole time staring out the window with his arms crossed and staring out the window. He would never say a word, he wasn't the type to apologise.

He just felt guilty.

When Allen refused to move, Kanda got out and went to the drivers side door. He nudged Allen until he shuffled over to sit in the passenger side seat again. Kanda slide into the driver seat, and put the car into gear, gently. They drove off, the silence a two way street.

…

**Yay… I wrote something at last. **

**I had fun writing Road, I feel I can make her as manic as I want and it'll all be alright.**

**Things got a bit heavy and weepy at the end there, sorry 'bout that, I can't help it. I write the corniest shit don't I? I'm so corny.**

**Okay!**

**On to theorising!**

**People who have only watched the series, I suggest you not read this for spoiler purposes.**

**I've been re-reading all through D Gray-Man right… and reading Vol. 17 has made me realise just how much I miss Cross in the series. His brief appearance in Vol. 23 made me miss him even more. He's so awesome.**

**So… what is everyone's theory on how he'll came back?**

**Because lets face it, he's not really dead.**

**If manga has one major draw back it's that people who die… never really die. They always end up coming back some how, and Cross' body disappeared. So he's totally not dead, not to mention he's the link between the Exorcists and the Noah, and was obviously very involved with Neah and Mana.**

**Also I think Cross is way freaking older than we have been led to believe. He's shown before that he's quite the magician.**

**Actually that annoyed me a bit in the series, magic was never really mentioned and then BAM! Cross shows up and he can do all kinds of shit. It was just like, hey… by the way… heres some magic. Then again you could think of the Innocence as magic… then there is Hevlaska… Hmm.**

**I dunno maybe I missed something… I'll have to go re-read again.**

**Then again that seal shit the Crow's can do is all magic and crap.**

**Just an example… Link came back from the dead after have a hole punched in his chest, but was saved by Zu.**

**Hey, maybe Zu saved Cross too.**

**And what about Timcampy. There is no way Hoshino would let TIm die. She's mentioned herself how much she likes TIm. How the hell is TIm going to come back?**

**Wow I need to shut up, see, this is what happens when there is a lack of updates. Too much time wondering what's going to happen. I've got more to say but I should shut up.**


End file.
